


Safe Space

by GunTotingScienceNerd



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Violence, Body Horror, Body Modification, Canon blender, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture, Past Violence, Slow Build, Submission, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunTotingScienceNerd/pseuds/GunTotingScienceNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know it was Prime that did this to you Prowl." Jazz noticed the startled look cross Prowl’s too-weary face at his confession. "The <i>war</i> ended Prowl, I didn't. Zebras don't change their stripes. I know everything they’ve done to you. I know how you’ve suffered. I know how you thought no one noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The door slid open and Jazz dared not move. Old habits died hard, particularly with SpecOps. When the shadow fell across his doorway, it eased one tension but built another. “Prowl?” He called out in disbelief, and hoped he wasn’t talking to ghosts again. After all the years he’d watched out for things unseen, Jazz wasn’t always sure what was real anymore. 

Neither of them moved for a moment, each studying the one before them. Prowl may have been good at keeping things from others, but he was never able to hide them from Jazz, not for long. “You've seen me look far worse, but I've never seen you look this bad.” Prowl was missing an optic, half his chevron, and his posture was twisted at an unnatural angle, that suggested Prowl's being upright was more a matter of will than anything else. Jazz wouldn't even attempt to count all the dents and abrasions marring Prowl’s armor. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me I should see the other mech. Right? Because if you look this bad..."

"Optimus..." was all Prowl managed to force out before that rigid beam he called a spine could hold him no more, and he collapsed. 

“With the way you're all twisted up I was wondering when that was going to happen. Lucky for you, I haven't lost my reflexes; as much as you are and have been bleeding from your head, I don't think bashing it on my floor would help your present condition.” He adjusted his hold on the other black and white and carried Prowl easily to his berth. Last time he'd tried this it had been on Earth, and lifting Prowl then had not been possible. Jazz wondered how long they’d been underfueling him, or if anyone had even bothered to notice. He pulled a cloth from his subspace and wiped at the energon on Prowl’s face. 

"I know it was Prime that did this to you Prowl." Jazz noticed the startled look cross Prowl’s too-weary face at his confession. "The _war_ ended Prowl, I didn't. Zebras don't change their stripes. I know everything they’ve done to you. I know how you’ve suffered. I know how you thought no one noticed. I know you were just thrown out a window and off two buildings. I know our _oh so beloved leader_ just leveled his charged blaster at your face. I know you’ve been getting the short end of the stick for a long time, even while sitting in your pretty little public cell. I know you never wanted any part of this war, but if it weren’t for you, most of us wouldn’t be here." As Jazz’s confession continued, Prowl’s shaking became more pronounced. He couldn’t tell if Prowl was fighting to stay online or fighting through his pain. Though which was the greater of the two at the moment, the mental or the physical, Jazz wouldn't attempt to guess. "I also know you're right. And that Prime's a fool not to trust you. But I do, and I got you now, so you rest. You're safe, Prowl." 

Jazz pressed his forehelm to Prowl’s crest. The last words Prowl heard before falling into recharge were ones he'd used on Jazz more times than either of them cared to count. In all the millions of years he'd been Jazz’s handler, he’d never understood how those words could bring such comfort until they were spoken to him, for him... 

_All will be as it should be. Things are right between you and me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz woke me up at 2 in the morning and told me this needed to continue...

Prowl groaned as his systems cycled on. He hurt everywhere. There were places that he hurt that no mech should ever hurt, and in ways he’d never hurt before. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. Having his frame force reformatted to fit into a gestalt had hurt in ways he’d never experienced before, though this… The memories were coming at him now… Stats cuffs coming off. Prime had called him friend, then thrown him through a blast-proof window. And off a building. Then off another. Rolling to miss an impact as his Prime had jumped down to continue his attack. Prowl remembered fighting back even though he knew it wouldn’t work. His Prime’s blaster charged and ready to fire, aimed at his head. Being told he should be killed…

A hard tap on his against his shoulder brought his attention to the last face he’d seen before he lost consciousness. Jazz. There were too many emotions tied up in too sore a space for him to get as mad as he truly wanted, but above all he knew he was safe. So the anger could come later when his brain wasn’t trying to ooze out of him in what felt to be a billion different dents, dings, and cracks.

“Yeah, I expect you’re not feeling too good right now. It probably feels like every single one of your day-glow green friends played kick-the-can with your head.” Jazz sat next to him and sipped his own cube. “If you could do me a real big favor and not _says_ anything or make any sounds, okay? Like at all? Text comms are fine. Just the less sounds the better until I tell you otherwise. Consider it mission parameters if you have to.” Prowl nodded to show he understood as he accepted the energon being offered.

:Why the silence? Are we not safe here?:

“No, no that’s not it, safe as houses. Whatever that means. Never did really get the context of that one while on Earth, but it sounds fun. Anyway, yeah definitely safe here, as for the why part, I’m sure you’ll see in just a few.”

Jazz finished off his cube then began moving around the dimly lit room. He cleaned in some places, inspected items before sorting them into boxes, all the while humming some tune Prowl didn't try too hard to place. It soothed his troubled mind, and brought back memories of all the times they'd sat pouring over intelligence. Which brought another question to mind.

:Why didn't you leave the city with the Autobots? Did I-we mean so little to you that you could just dismiss all that time we spent together? You just watched us walk out of the city walls and into the wilds?:

Jazz paused for a moment before he continued his sorting of the room. “Where would you have put me? If it had been another of your plans where would have sent me? Into the city, right?” Jazz’s suspicions were confirmed by Prowl’s nod. “So that’s where I stayed.” If he noticed the emotions that passed behind Prowl’s eyes he made not comment on them as Jazz continued his explanations. “Look Prowl, none of this is the way either of us would have liked to see it go down. You are going to drive yourself mad if you try and figure things out now. It’s all… I don’t know… Down the rabbit hole, or through the looking glass, or whatever pretty idioms you want to use. But the situations here is all fragged up. And I for one don’t want to stick around and wait for this world to right itself.”

Prowl couldn’t met Jazz’s gaze. He could feel it on him, and despite knowing he was right Prowl just couldn’t walk away. As he gathered his thoughts and all his arguments to tell the other mech this Jazz’s comm system buzzed to life.

Jazz check the chronometer before he spoke. “Stay right here. Don’t move. And no matter what, don’t speak. This is a matter of life and death, your life and death.” Prowl locked on Jazz’s face trying to read, desperate to know he’d not made a mistake in coming here. Their optics fell closed as Jazz drew their forehelm’s together. “All those years you kept me safe. Made sure I’d come back, if not interacted at least alive. It’s my turn now. I owe you my life Prowl. Let me take care of this, like you took care of me, okay?” Pain flashed through Prowl’s field, as his optics burned. He was not alone, not anymore. He was safe. “Stay here. Stay quiet. Let me get this before he suspects something.”

Jazz stood and crossed the room to his communications table. Prowl wouldn’t be seen from his location but could see through the standing glass screen. Jazz snatched a cube before he flipped the channel open. He pretended to stifle a large yawn before he spoke to his caller. “Optimus, mech don’t you know it’s early for a night owl like me? Better be some good news because I was just have the best recharge dream.”

“Sorry to wake you Jazz. We were wondering if you had heard from Prowl?” The Prime didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

“Prowl? Boss, you know I don’t really talk to the old crowd anymore. Too busy with my new life. Speaking of which I haven’t seen you around, you planning on stopping by to see me anytime soon?”

“No Jazz, I’m sorry. Things are a bit unsettled here, which is why I called. Are you sure you haven’t heard from Prowl? I know you two used to be close.” Jazz watched the shadows on the wall behind Optimus, the large mech’s body language, so many small nuances that said so much.

“Nope, haven’t heard not one peep from him. Why do you ask?” Jazz titled his head, and rubbed at his face. This time he added a stretch to go along with his yawn. A gesture that had his hands disappearing from the Prime’s view to miss the sharp downward jab of a finger telling the twitchy Praxian to sit back down.

“He’s escaped and we’re having trouble locating him. You wouldn’t be interested in helping out with that would you? I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement when you find him. I can’t imagine your current job plays nearly as well as your last. If you willing to help us out, I’m sure there’s a place for you within the new government. Mecha with your skill set are always needed.”

“Yeah, no. Bossbot I’m going to have to decline on that offer. You see I’m checking off my bucket list, as it were. We spent all the time fighting the war that we never really got a chance to _live_. I’m all about doing some living.”

Blue hands shoved a data pad in front of Prime before Starscream stepped into view. "Jazz, lovely to see you. Tell Blurr I said hello if you will? I'm sorry to barge in on your little family reunion, but Optimus is needed elsewhere. Planet to run and all. More later I'm sure. But do keep Optimus' offer in mind when you're tired of slumming? Ta for now."

As soon as the screen went dark Jazz attacked the keyboard. Black fingers clicked quickly over the keys. "That Seeker is all kinds of crazy." Jazz continued typing as he spoke. "And as conniving as they come. Let's see what he's up too shall we?" A quick jerk of his head had Prowl joining him at the console. The screen flared to life and Prowl jumped back to get out of frame. “Nah, don’t worry about that. I hacked back in. Reestablished the connection before it could completely close. They don’t even know we’re there.”

Starscream’s voice purred at Optimus, “This planet wide alert just needs your signature and Prowl will become public enemy number one. We’ve even managed a sizable reward for information leading to his capture. A rather nice incentive, don’t you think?” They watch as Optimus gave Starscream a mixed look before signing the data pad.

“Son of a… That fragged up, half witted, poor excuse for a… Flying Dorito!”Jazz looked at Prowl. Shell shocked came to mind. “Let's pack up Prowl. We’re leaving.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day comes, along with a lot of questions, and even less answers.

"Prowl? Hey? You on there?” A few snaps of his fingers brought Prowl out of himself. 

"He really wants me dead." There was no fight in the statement just the resigned listlessness of a someone facing their end. 

Jazz could feel his temper rising. He’d known Prowl's captured would lead to nothing good. He had his suspicions that Shockwave’s tinkering was behind Prowl’s personality change, but with the monster dead there was no way to be sure. The Prowl he’d worked so closely with throughout the war was not one that would have withheld information from him before their mission to Earth. Nor was it the same Prowl that plotted and planned with his friend’s lives. It infuriated him to think he’d left Prowl in the hands of mechs they had trusted for millennia, yet none of them had noticed when Prowl had been taken, his mind invaded, and body forcibly reformatted. And now the very mecha that owed Prowl their lives were trying to kill him. It was infuriating.

Jazz roared as he punched the glass on his computer console. The screen and his fist gave a sickening crack. The screen healed quickly once Jazz removed his fist from it, his knuckles would take longer. A quick shake of his hand, before Jazz, forced a digit that had dislocated back into place. He hadn't noticed Prowl had jumped at the noise; he did watch as Prowl moved to sit on the berth, one hand fisting around the remains of his chevron, squeezing until the metal groaned. 

Jazz knew Prowl’s mind was probably racing, the information it was feeding him all pointed to his likely demise. Never something fun to contemplate, Jazz knew from personal experience. “Prowl?” Jazz dropped into a crouch in front of his longtime friend. “Prowl, look at me?” Slowly bleary optic met his visor. “You came to me because you were scared right?” A small nod, after all they’d been through, fear was still not something easily admitted. “Did any of that conversation we witnessed not sink in?” Averted eyes and arms that went from resting on his knees to curled around his middle were all the answer Jazz needed. “You remember what Prime said to you right? That he was going to kill you?” Another small nod. This conversation was not one Jazz wanted to have right now there were a million other things they needed to be doing, but if it spurred Prowl into action and out of his shock, it was a conversation they would have. “They just made you the most wanted mech on all of Cybertron, if you don’t want to die, we have to leave.”

“But Jazz, why?”

“I can’t answer that. I mean yeah, you’re kinda of an aft sometimes, and I’ve wanted to deck you across that pretty face of yours, but I’ve never wished you were…” Jazz’s voice trailed off as Prowl’s helm came to rest on his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to die Jazz. But if it’s for the good of others, for the good of Cybertron, I will submit. I was brought online to serve and protect if I can’t do those if I’ve outlived my usefulness then maybe it is best if I turn myself over for judgment?” Prowl curled tighter in on himself as if he were trying to withdraw from all contact. Prowl’s mind was throwing scenarios at him faster than he could sort them. He was Constructed Cold, brought online for a specific purpose and function. It was a role he’d performed for eons, one he’d clung to ruthlessly in the face of incredible odds, and helped those he served to come out on the other side. But if his handler, his leader, didn’t want him then what purpose did it serve for him to go on living. 

Jazz’s hand cupped the back of Prowl’s head; his thumb stroked the edges of the long chevron. “Did you come here so you would have someone to watch you die? Because I gotta say, that’s more than a little disappointing to me. Where’s all the fight? Where’s all that sass you used to spout off when you thought Prime wasn’t listening to reason? Or the guff you used to give me when you thought I was going off half cocked? Is all that gone, or have they just beaten it out of you?”

“I don’t know,” came back to him in a small voice. “So much has happened, and I don’t know who I am anymore. I just remember when you and I worked together before we accomplished amazing things that defied all logic.”

“Yeah, we do make a pretty incredible team.” Jazz pushed Prowl back and stood. “Look, you once said we were interchangeable. Where you stopped is where I began, and where I couldn’t see, you could. We can still be that way. You just have to trust me. You know, like you used to. Think you can do that?”

His arms uncurled from around his middle, but Prowl still didn't meet his gaze. "Trusting someone has never been easy for me. From my experience trust leads to… unpleasantness.”

“Not even me?” Jazz tone was light hoping to bring the mood up with it. 

"Not even you. Not even then."

“Mech, one of these days you're going to have to tell me about your life before the war. And I don't mean your service record either. I mean the personal stuff. But for now, if you won't trust me can I, at least, have faith?" Jazz extended his hand, to help Prowl up from the berth would be the easy interpretation, but both knew the gesture held more than that simple meaning. Jazz was asking Prowl to put himself in Jazz’s hands. “You always trusted… You had faith I’d complete my assignments, right? You sent me out to do what needed to be done because you knew without a doubt I’d accomplish my mission, right?”

Prowl’s gaze shifted between the outstretched hand and the visored face he’d known for so long. His battle computer supplied him with fast fact and figures, likelihood this was a trap, likelihood Jazz would fail if he put his faith in him, the likelihood he’d be captured and sent to the smelter. So many scenarios raced through Prowl's mind, all of them screaming that he was doomed to fail, to fall, that his game, his time was at its end. “I don’t want to die.” Prowl felt his helm being tipped back, his shuttered eye opened to find his vision filled with a blue visor, warm hands curling around his helm to hold their foreheads together. When Jazz spoke next, it was soft and in the tone that had given him hope when there’d been no reason for hope at all. 

“Then let me make your safety my mission. I’ve never failed you yet, not once in all those millennia. Give me the orders and let me do my job.”

“Jazz…”

“You told me once you trusted me to pull your aft out that damn human base, and I did. Literally dragged you outta there didn’t I?”

Prowl twisted away from that voice that had given hope to many before he fell under its sway. “There's no place we wouldn't be hunted. No planet or system that we would find solace. You'll be convicted of aiding and abetting, if or when we get caught. Sentenced to death. Jazz, I’ve lied to so many, used them as pawns in larger games, I’ve lied to you, and here at the end of all things I could turn myself over and pay the penance for my crimes.”

Jazz mouth curled into a Cheshire cat grin. “Wow. So you fought this whole war by yourself? No one would have pulled a single trigger, fired a single bomb, laid waste to another if it hadn’t been for you then?”

“No. Of course not.“

“Then stop believing them when they try to heap all their damn guilt on you. No way you have more blood on your hands than Kup, or Ironhide, Rodimus leveled all of Nyon. I won’t even get started on the big wigs that have switched to our side. And Prowl, I’m far from innocent, but they’ve never come after me.” 

Prowl closed his eye, placed his hand in the still outstretched and waiting hand. He allowed Jazz to pull him to his feet. “Faith is something I can give you. You’ve never failed to meet or exceed any expectations I’ve ever had in you.” 

“But you don’t trust me?” Jazz still held Prowl’s hand. He watched as Prowl dropped his gaze to their joined hands. Something had happened to his once so confident partner. He’d find out, one day, but not right now. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll prove to you that I’m worth being the exception to your _trust no one_ rule. But first, we need to pack, and I want to get you to a medic before we leave.”

Prowl pulled his hand away as the other came up to cover his still empty eye socket. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going, and I highly doubt anyone on this planet or any with mechanical lifeforms would treat me.” Prowl’s posture sagged, door wings lowering as if to prove how beaten he’d become. 

Ducking to catch Prowl’s gaze “This where that faith comes in. But I need you to do one thing for me. I know you’re probably going to think I’m glitched, just go with it, and maybe this will help you too.” 

Dark hands settled around Prowl’s throat, forcing his gaze up to meet Jazz’s visor, black thumbs stroking his main energon lines in long slow strokes, it was almost relaxing. “Faith, right?” Jazz nodded as a smile broke through the tight-lipped seriousness that had covered his face. 

“Give me my mission. Tell me what brought you, why you came to me. Tell me what you want from me. Justify it however you need, call it hold over programming, or humoring your glitched out friend, whatever. I just need to hear it. So don’t go all Bashful dwarf on me now, give me that straight up honesty like you used to when no one else was listening. For me, Prowl? I need it.”

Prowl shook his head and squeezed Jazz’s wrist before the spoke. “I hate it when you spout off Earth culture. I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t…" Prowl breathed in deeply before he continued. "I don’t know why I came to you. I was afraid, and wanted to feel…” Something pulled at him from behind Jazz’s visor; an infinitesimally small nod encouraged him on, telling Prowl he was on the right track. Being this honest was frightening. He’s always had some larger plan, now he just wanted… “Jazz,” Prowl’s voice carried a confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time, anger yes, but this confidence was one that had gone as he’d lost himself. “Your mission is to keep me safe and alive, until such time as my safety can be guaranteed. Do you accept your mission?”

“Mission accepted.” A devious smirk twisted Jazz’s lips. “Hold on tight Prowl. We’re about to have some fun.” Jazz’s voice was cold as he turned to face his door.

A hard kick to Jazz’s door was all the warning Prowl got before the room when dark. The glow of a blade, the muzzle flash of blaster shots, and Jazz’s maniacal laugh filled the darkened room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting off the planet isn't as easy as walk to the garage, get in the ship and go.

The first shot went high. The bright glow of an energon powered blade swung in an upward arc as Jazz spun underneath the shot. The blade glowed brilliantly in the darkened room, dimmed as it sliced through the arm of their would-be assailant. The blade’s arc continued around until the dagger slid into the thinner side armor of their still unknown attacker. "Who sent you?” Jazz voice was eerily quiet and calm the aftermath of the cacophony. 

“Like I'd tell you!” 

Jazz huffed a laugh before he twisted the dagger. “Wrong answer.” He threw the larger mech over his shoulder, clearing the doorway and plunging them all into relative darkness as the door's sensor registered the entryway now clear. Jazz settled astride the mech. One hand was resting on the still embedded knife, the other curled around the mech’s throat. “You seem to be under the impression that I’m asking. I’m not.” Jazz whispered in a mockery of their intimate position. “I’m offering you a chance to name the mech that got you killed.” The dagger twisted again, turning the blade in a better position for its slow pull upwards. No name was ever given and at some point, the screaming stopped. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

“They’re coming for me already.” Prowl looked down at the dead mech. “I had thought I’d have a little more time.” 

Jazz stood, wiped the blade before stashing it away again. “Yeah well, I’m not so sure he’s here for you, I'm the most popular mech around, and there’s still plenty out there that’d pay good money to take me out. Either way, we need to get off this sinking ship.”

~oOo~

“My ship’s just up here. ‘Round the corner at the end.” Jazz patted Prowl’s hand where it looped to rest on his forearm. “Stop fidgeting. I told you visors are all the rage, and you look good in those colors. Should think about keeping them.”

“I’ve never been any other color. And I’m not fidgeting, the paint itches.” The farther they moved into the transportation hub's launch bay the closer Prowl remained to Jazz. “This isn’t going to work, you know? They’re going to know it’s me, and then you’ll be executed for treason to the Prime.” 

Jazz chuckled and nodded his helm as someone as they passed. “If this is what they get me for then someone upstairs has been slacking.”

“Should I be worried?” Prowl watched where he stepped as they continued across the tarmac. His depth perception was all but gone with only one optic, an opaque visor covering that, not to mention the thick paint covering his door wings and chevron. 

"Nah, We're on the same side, or should I say I'm on your side. Always have been Prowl. I think I just need to convince you of that then maybe you'll trust me." Jazz’s posture changed and Prowl risked a glance at his companion to see why. He recognized Jazz’s public facade sliding into place. “Hey there, Sargent Payload, how goes it?” 

A convoy size enforcer was striding towards them looking more than a little annoyed. ::Keep calm Prowl. We’ve been through worse, and we got this.:: Jazz smooth, calculated voice over his comms eased some of the tension gathering in his frame. 

“Hey Jazz, long time no see. Something's got the higher ups in meetings all morning. They're all secretive and snappy. Not a lot of fun if you know what I mean. Anyway. Where you headed too?” Payload’s smile was easy even as he gave Prowl the once over. 

Jazz pat the black colored hand Prowl had rested on his forearm. “Just taking this beautiful mech up to admire our planet all lit up once again. Says he likes the view from up there. And I aim to please.” Jazz slid his fingers along Prowl’s jaw turning the Praxian into a quick kiss. 

Prowl gasped and blushed caused both mechs to laugh. “Lookie there. It seems like you’ve got yourself a shy one.” Payload smacked Jazz hard on the shoulder hard and sent him careening into the still shocked Prowl. Jazz not being injured or impaired recovered first. He pulled Prowl to him, hoping to keep the off-kilter mech from falling. All their stumbling had Prowl grasping Jazz to stabilize himself and stop his overtaxed gyros from spinning. 

::I gotcha, just close your optic and reset your gyros. By the time you get that done, I’ll have Payload off our backs, and we can get out of here.:: Prowl nodded and did as Jazz had instructed. Slowly Prowl came back to himself from the darkness of his reset. He heard voices first, Payload was laughing. Jazz was talking to him in a staged whisper, the vibration ghosting across his audials. 

“… don’t let him bother you pretty one. Payload’s a hard aft that wouldn’t know how to romance someone if Seekers wrote the instructions in mile wide letters across the sky.” Prowl was confused at first, but as he became more self-aware anger flashed through his field. ::Prowl? Listen, don’t get mad. I just... Just go along with this, and we’ll be out of here in no time. Okay? I’m sorry.:: 

Slowly Prowl forced himself to relax. Jazz had gotten them this far. They didn’t seem to be in any imminent danger. And if Payload began to suspect anything one quick call and they’d both be in trouble. He gave Jazz an answer by way of a small nod. 

“Oh, Jazzy looks like your pretty bot is getting frisky. Maybe I should let you go, or maybe~ I should keep you two here longer and see if I can get a good show. Been a long time since I’ve had anything that pretty snuggled up to me.” 

Prowl dipped his door wings out of Payload’s reach. Ducking his head under Jazz’s chin, he curled himself as close to Jazz as he could before Prowl turned his head to meet Payload’s lecherous grin. “I’m all his. Jazz takes good care of what’s his, and he won’t share me.” If he needed to play a part, he would make sure he played it well. Prowl even let a little of his fear leech into his field. 

Jazz stroked Prowl’s plating and cooed over the din of the hanger. “No love, I won’t share you. You’re far too special for such a thing. Alright Payload, you’ve had your fun. Your big ugly mug is scaring my date. How ‘bout you let us get out of here and get onto more entertaining activities.” 

The heavy-handed smack to Jazz’ back didn’t send them stumbling again. “Okay okay, fine you to get going, or I might fine you for taking up one of my docks. See you next time through Jazz.” Prowl watched as the Enforcer walked away chuckling at their expense. 

They were on the shuttle before either of them relaxed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one's not more exciting, and that I took so long to get it out to you. I'm falling asleep as I fight to post it so let me know if I've screwed something up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much can be chipped away before you're no longer you anymore, Prowl contemplates this while Jazz plots their future course of action.

The door from the washroom opened steam wafting into the main room of the small ship along with a still grumpy Prowl. “I hate being painted.” 

“Yeah, well, it got you off the planet unnoticed, though, didn't it?” Jazz watched the rivulets of steam condense into droplets that trickle their way down Prowl’s frame. His plating felt warm, and he cleared his throat of the lump that had suddenly formed there. Jazz readjusted in his seat and continued to scroll through the charts he had been studying. “So, is there any place, in particular, you’d like to avoid? Any place you want to see? We have one stop to make if I can find them, but other than that, we’re off the map.”

“Them?” Prowl said as he sat next to Jazz looking over his shoulder at the maps on the datapad. 

“Yeah, them, well, him, but he’s on a ship so them. And it’s a quantum ship so finding them might take a bit. Hence the question of any place you want to see or avoid?” He handed over the datapad with their proposed course on it. “See if anything along the way strikes your fancy? We’re going to have to stop as it is, so I figure we might as well sightsee a little along the way.”

Prowl gave the datapad a tertiary glance before handing it back. “Wherever is fine.” He got up and made his way to what Jazz was becoming to believe was his favorite spot on the ship, a porthole that was large enough to be a seat. The mech could spend hours there doing nothing but sitting and staring off into space, literally.

“Prowl?” The mech barely turned his head. “I know you. Spent more than a few eons learning to ‘speak Prowl’ and you’re screaming something’s up' but you aren't talking. I also know that when we started this little adventure we swore absolute honesty to each other, as in no secrets at all. I can’t have you playing your games with me or anything that pertains to me if I’m the one that’s supposed to be keeping you alive. So you can tell me, or I can keep asking as I drive us to the nearest port to drop you off if you’d rather keep your secrets.” 

Prowl’s fingers traced patterns on the glass, “I’m not. There are no games left. All my games have come to their end. I really don’t have an opinion on where to go. Wherever you want is fine with me.” 

“Right. So what aren’t you saying then? And how long has your battle computer been offline?”

Prowl’s finger stopped it’s idle motions for a moment before he started back up again. Jazz hadn’t watched him long enough to be sure, but it looked as though Prowl were writing his name over and over in the condensation that formed along the windows sill.

“Prowl? Tell me everything.” Jazz’s voice was softer, held a more private note to it. Not something Prowl had heard often, especially directed at him, so he took a deep breath and answered. 

“Jazz, I don’t care where we go, because I’ve never been anywhere unless the war took me there. I can’t answer your second question precisely because I think it controlled that detail oriented part of me. I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s left of me.”

Jazz scrubbed at his face, fingertips wiping up under his visor before he stood crossing the small space of the ship in a few strides to kneel next to Prowl. “Hey?” He reached up folding his arm around Prowl’s knee guard and resting his head on his forearm. “You’re still you, okay? They can take bits and pieces. Turn you into something you’re not, or try to remake you into what they want you to be, but you will always be you.” 

Prowl looked away from his long-time partner, “I’m not sure I ever knew who I was to begin with.” 

Jazz stood, walked back over to the datapad giving it a quick study before he headed for the bridge of their ship. “Well, maybe it’s time you learned then.” 

That playful tone in Jazz's voice usually meant trouble for Prowl. "And just how do you propose I do that?" When his reply was a wink from a visor and a Cheshire Cat smile Prowl tried again breaking out his stern voice that had stopped so many pranksters in their tracks. "Jazz, just what are you plotting?" This time his reply was a laugh and the door to the flight deck sliding closed behind his companion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz reveals a darker side, and Prowl takes a leap of faith in what could be a dangerous direction.

The ship gave a shudder as it settled into the dock. “Right, well, we’re here.” Jazz sounded more resigned than excited and Prowl wondered why that was. “Okay so, I know you don’t like being painted, but this is not the place for you to go wandering around as you are. So you can wait here for me, or we can dress you up all pretty and painted again then you can come with me.” Jazz looked out the nearest window and sighed heavily. “Should tell you now though this planet isn’t a whole lot of fun. Rival gangs running the streets, can’t say the wrong thing, or talk to the wrong people, or make the wrong gestures. I really don’t want to be here for long. But this ship isn’t a long range jump ship so we’re going to have to stop a few times before we get to where they were seen last.” Jazz scrubbed his face, fingertips slipping up under his visor to rub tired eyes. “Okay so, what do you want to do? Stay here or go with me?” 

 

“I am… unsure. Staying here will mean I can mind the ship, but being bored will me I’ll want to run… I’ll go with you.” Prowl was hoping his quick change of direction wouldn’t have caught Jazz’s attention, but he knew otherwise. 

 

Jazz stared at Prowl, hidden eyes traveling over the still visible damage. “One of these days you and me, we’re going to have to have a long uncomfortable talk.” Jazz hated not knowing all the secrets. Prowl had always kept his secrets close, but being that Prowl was his charge now it made his protocols scream at him about dangers unknown. “One of these days, very soon I think.” 

 

“If you insist.” He would if he must, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. Secrets were his stock in trade, and to not have any form of protection, it was unsettling, to say the least.

~oOo~

“Alright so go over the rules with me one more time.” Jazz was fidgeting, something that did not inspire a lot of confidence in the already uncomfortable Prowl. “You’re in charge. I follow your lead, no matter what. I don’t break character, no matter what.”

 

Jazz looked at Prowl for a long weighted moment. “Okay so,” He drew a deep breath and held it for another long moment, “Look, I’m about to do something, show you something that no one but the one who made this mod knows I can do, and even he doesn’t know the profiles I created with it. So I just need you to remember that no matter what you see it is me, and I am in there. Sometimes these profiles are a… little more developed than others. Sometimes… Frag it all. Just watch and remember what I said, and don’t freak out, yeah?” 

 

“I don’t freak… out.” Prowl watched as Jazz’s armor spilt and shifted in smaller segments. Pieces twisted, turned and rearranged themselves as the colors morphed into ones he’d never seen on Jazz before. His cobalt visor bled to gold, helm horns lengthened and thickened. Fingers tips grew pointed claws. Teeth became fangs, alt mode pieces visible on his root mode changed grew sharper rocket launchers unfolded from within his frame to mount itself on his shoulder. Finally, a spike grew to protrude from the center of his chest. Jazz snarled and snapped as if in pain, frame contorting to pop and crack joints. 

 

When the scene settled it took Prowl a moment to process what or rather who now stood before him. “Ricochet!” Alarms across his HUD warned of the danger before him. Prowl reached for a gun he no longer possessed, tried to online weapon systems that had been ripped from him. His doorwings flared wide to gather as much information as he could. 

All the while Jazz or rather Ricochet stood completely still. “Surprise?” Jazz wiggled his hands in a display of a human dance term that included his name. “This is how I never got caught. This allowed me to waltz into and out of any base you sent me to, but as handy as it is it has its drawbacks. This profile is not completely sane. And the longer I stay in one of my other profiles, the more control it has. I’m still there in the back of my mind but… it’s hard to explain.” 

 

Prowl shook his frame resettling his armor. “I understand that better than you might think.” 

 

Jazz cocked his head to the side, before shaking his head and mumbling about conversations again. “Okay so, the best way for me to take you with me is like a pet or a prisoner. I know neither makes you happy but some new mech roaming around on this city is going to attract the kind of attention you don’t want to have.” 

 

Prowl ran through all known information he had on Ricochet. None of it was good. His list of war crimes included violations against prisoners, theft, and distribution of Autobot secrets, execution of POWs, collecting sparks of the condemned and turning them into bombs… Prowl had to stop the list that scrolled through his HUD. He mind was swimming trying to reconcile what he knew of his counterpart and the evil that was Ricochet. 

 

“I know this has got to have your mind running circles, and this will be part of that long conversation you and I really need to have, but right now we have an appointment. So I need you to decide. Coming with or staying here?” 

 

“I’d still rather not be alone, but this is a lot to take in at once.” Prowl eased his weight back a step. 

 

Jazz or Ricochet sat on the nearest crate in the ship's small cargo hold. “I know. And I’m sorry there’s not more time to… Well for everything. But the mech we’re meeting doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I can tell you a few things about Ricochet. He’s possessive as all slag. So I’d advise pet instead of a prisoner. And the more you fawn over him, the more possessive he’ll be.”

 

“Yes, well we all know how Ricochet treats his prisoners. The rumors are horrific.” 

 

“That wasn’t me!” The response held tones of both Jazz and Ricochet’s voice. “I can explain it all to you later Prowl. I swear I will. I understand if you can’t stand to be around me. I get it, I honestly do. So if you’re not here when I get back, then…” He paused before opening a small panel on the wall to show what was hidden inside. “If you go, take this, ok? There’s forty-thousand shank in here. That’ll get you out of this Primus forsaken place.” 

 

“Jazz? You said you were still in there, right? Still in control? You have never hurt me, and I’d still like to go. I can watch your back if this place is really that bad?”

 

“Yeah, I’m still here. Not always as in control as I’d like to be but that’s usually been a good thing, before.”

 

Prowl forced himself to move closer despite his instincts screaming at him to get away. “Then let me watch your back. I can go with you, as a pet you said?” 

 

Jazz’s field blossomed with awe and thanks at the faith the other mech was showing him. “Yes, as a pet, he won’t hurt what’s his. And I would never hurt you. You told me to keep you safe, and I will, we will. Just give me a little bit more of that faith, even in this form I can still do what needs to be done.” 

 

Prowl stared at the mech before him. Ricochet was known to be cruel, vicious and insane, but Jazz was in there. Jazz who had saved him more times than he could count. Jazz who had always come through for him. Jazz who had left a much longed for retirement to follow him into a war zone because he had lied to him and told Jazz how much he needed him, and now that mech was asking for some of that faith to be returned. “Okay then, as your pet.” Prowl buried his apprehension and moved to stand before the multifaceted mech before him. He looked at the very different face taking in all the sharp angles and wild appearance, then lowered his head and waited.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their stopover on a planet leads to gambling, drinking and Prowl not having a very good night.

The fanged smile spread, “Excellent.” Ricochet turned to leave the shuttle but suddenly stopped and whirled on Prowl, “Don’t look at anyone else. Don’t touch anyone else. Stay close to me at all times. And don’t let anyone else touch you.” 

“As you say.” Prowl lowered his helm and looked up at Jazz turned Ricochet. It had the effect of giving him a tender expression. The softening of Ricochet’s fanged smirk and a sharp-clawed fingertip stroking along Prowl’s cheek let him know it worked in ingratiating himself further to Ricochet.

“Oh pretty thing, the things you promise with that look would be my undoing. But we don’t have time for that. I got deals to make, and you got secrets to overhear for me.” Again he turned to leave the shuttle and again he stopped. “I almost forgot. You, lovely thing are going to need a collar. We don’t want any of these gutter dregs' thinking that you’re available for free and open for use.” Ricochet looked around the shuttle’s small cargo hold for something before he froze and snapped his fingers. “He won’t like it, but I don’t care. If he does, he can get the frag over it. Not like he’s here or anything.” Ricochet’s fanged smirk and illusive words had Prowl worried and more than a little confused. He watched as a worn and battered silver collar with a tarnished thin chain leash was produced from Ricochet’s subspace then held up to his neck for measurement. “Might be a little tight. You’re a bit thinker than he was when he wore this, but it’ll work for now. Turn around.” 

Prowl did so holding his breath while sharp talons scratched at his neck as the collar was fixed around it. He ran his fingers along the inside where the collar touched his neck; it was smooth but not from design. The leather had been worn so with age. “Thank you, Master.” 

Ricochet turned on him quickly grabbing at his neck and squeezing it tightly claws pricking the lines there. “Don’t call me that! Never call me that! It’s an awful word, and I don’t want to hear it again.” 

Prowl grabbed at Ricochet’s forearm before he thought better of it. Instead, he went completely still, eyes and door wings falling in submission. “Sorry, I’m sorry. What would you have me call you?” 

Ricochet eased his grip, “I don’t know, not that, and not sir. I'm no sir. Just be respectful, and don’t cause trouble. I mean it when I said no one else gets to touch you, except me.” 

Prowl stepped into Ricochet’s field making sure to keep his passive and calm. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You said you would take care of me. I wouldn’t waste such an offer.” His frame relaxed a little more when Ricochet began to purr. 

“That’s a good pet.” Ricochet’s fanged smile reminded Prowl of an Earth shark. Both were beautiful, deadly and not always predictable. “Time to go.” Ricochet turned back to the door controls and began the process of lowering their gangplank. The smells that bombarded the ship through the opening door where musty and stale. It reeked of lost hope and broken dreams. It reminded Prowl of his time patrolling the slums but with more organic flavors added to the mix. 

Ricochet’s demeanor was nothing like Jazz’s as they walked on. Menace and pain were the unwritten promises to anyone who dared to get in his way. Clawed hands clenched and twitched as though tempted to strike. Golden visor flashed searching out the darkened street corners and pitch-black alleyways for threats real and imagined. “Keep up. You don’t want to get lost in here.” 

You’ve been here before?” 

“Don’t ask questions.” came Ricochet’s growled reply.

~oOo~

The building was a large, nondescript, concrete structure with no windows and no marque the was inside a drastic contradiction with its bland exterior. The decor was ostentatious with the expansive chandeliers, floor to ceiling stone reliefs, high reaching arches that most shuttle class mecha would fit through, the entire room was covered in a variety expensive stone from several galaxies, and inlaid precious metals. A sharp pain reminded him that attempting to use his battle computer to calculate the amount of money flowing through here was not possible since that was of the components that had been removed while he’d been in Starscream’s care. Prowl felt very uncomfortable in this pretentious setting with his battered frame. “Don’t fidget!” Ricochet reinforced his command with a sharp jerk on the leash. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Sorry,” Prowl mumbled as he staggered from the second reprimanding jerk. 

Ricochet made his rounds. He stopped at various gambling tables always winning just enough to not cause suspicion before moving on. He gave Prowl the winnings to hold as they continued their way around the crowded main room. This obviously was where the deals were made. Too many mecha with helms held too close without any affection in their interactions with the one they were speaking too. Ricochet sprawled across a large chair, the height was right, but the width made him look like he was a noble holding court. A flippant gesture of Ricochet’s hand told Prowl to place their winnings on the table. He almost took a seat near the other mech, but the leash again became taunt. “On the floor pet, nearby so I can see that pretty face of yours.” 

The command gave Prowl pause, Ricochet’s ire brought him out of it. The sharp jerk to the leash had him stumbling to lower himself to the ground before he fell. The moment he settled Ricochet dug sharp claws into his jawline as he jerked Prowl’s face to his. “Don’t make me tell you twice again.” 

“I won’t. I’m sorry.” Prowl lowered his gaze single optic dimming in submission. 

Ricochet’s hold turned for sharp and biting to holding Prowl almost gently. Claws of his other hand stroked along the broken remnants of Prowl’s chevron. “That’s a good little pet.” Prowl chewed the inside of his mouth to keep from crying out at the intensely uncomfortable sensation. Ricochet’s exploration of his face was interrupted by a series of unknown visitors to their table. Plausible deniability and unwillingness to anger the unstable mech for eavesdropping had Prowl retreating inside his mind. Memories of angry faces and shattered window feelings of falling as well as sharp pangs of betrayal stole near the surface of his mind. Another sharp tug at his leash had Prowl’s full attention on Ricochet as the mech’s angry face filled his field of vision. “I said go get me a drink.” 

“Good slaves are hard to find, huh Rico?” one of the groups of mecha at their table laughed. Prowl was startled he hadn’t been aware of their joining Ricochet at his table. Prowl nodded before stumbled to his feet and made his way around the chair Ricochet was sprawled across. 

“Yeah, except he’s not a slave his a pet. Maybe I should show you the difference, huh Dodger? You’d be pretty chained to my berth?” The maniacal glint in Ricochet’s eyes had the boisterous table silent and fraught with tension that Prowl was glad to leave if even only briefly. He made his way to the bar it wasn’t until the barkeep was in front of him that Prowl realized he was unsure what Ricochet drank. He mentally ran through the many things he’d seen Jazz drink over the years and decided to try the one Jazz drank on his hardest nights right off a mission. “Vosian Afterburner, please.” The bar mech paused for a moment giving Prowl a chance to reconsider before moving to make the concoction. Prowl watched from afar as Ricochet held court with the mecha at his table. 

“Hello, Prowl.” That voice slithered down his spine spreading unease as it went filling up his spark with dread.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long lost brother complicates an already complicated situation while two halves fight to become whole.

“What do you want Barricade?” Prowl tried to add venom to his voice hoping it would mask the fear. 

“Why you of course baby brother.” The fallen enforcer dragged sharpened claws down the soft inner lining of Prowl’s nearest door wing. “What else could bring me out of hiding when so many which to end me.”

“The Reintegration Act…”

“Would only make sure whatever happened to me looked like an accident.” Barricade stepped closer molding his body against Prowl from behind. “Unless I brought them a bigger prize and that’s where you come in.” Fangs scrapped across Prowl’s neck before words were whispered into his neck, “Unless you can make me a better offer.” 

Prowl fought back his field, struggled to hold his frame still and not melt into the hold of his larger framed batch brother. In another life, this is where he would want to be. He would have made any offer he needed. Given whatever promises required. He would have said or, done anything just to remain close to Barricade. Now Prowl knew to stay here in this mech’s arms was to court his own death. “Let me go Barricade.”

Smugness colored Barricade’s field while his raspy voice fed words into Prowl’s nearest audial. “Now why would I do that? Especially when I’ve got you exactly where you most wanted to be for how many years? I think it’d be a much better idea if you and I had a little fun and indulged some of those fantasies of yours, like the ones you wrote in that book of yours that Speedtrap found. Come on Prowl? What’d you say? Right here? Against the bar? In front of everyone? Want to let them see me make you mine?” 

Prowl voiced no objections as Barricade bent him to lay across the bar top. His mind warred with itself at what to do. Once upon a time he had wanted this, he would have welcomed belonging to his brother, but now he knew differently. Barricade was just like all the others. All those that saw him as an object to be used. “No, I don’t want this. Barricade stop.” 

“Your mouth is saying one thing but your body another. Stop fighting and enjoy this, little brother.” Barricade purred into his audial. Prowl scratched at the bar top. He wanted to scream, to push Barricade off him, yet he could do neither. 

The sound of a gun cocking sent ice through his veins. “You heard him tall dark and ugly. Get off.” Prowl wanted to be relieved that Ricochet had stepped in, but the voice of the other mech sounded livid. 

“Ricochet, thank you I…” 

“Shut up Prowl. You and I will talk later.” Fire flashed Ricochet’s visor. Prowl froze, his gaze fell to the floor, wings lowered as shoulders hunched. It seems he could do nothing right this night. Ricochet wrapped a clawed hand around Barricade’s neck and pulled. The large mech’s optics blazed hellfire as his field filled with hate. Ricochet’s grin spoke of his lack of concern and mirth at bringing such feelings out in the would-be competitor. “You touched something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Prowl’s belonged to me since the day he came online.” Barricade’s growled reply was stifled by a squeeze of Ricochet’s claws. “Do you worst pipsqueak, it’ll always be the truth.” 

“Not anymore,” Ricochet tossed his gun in the air, Barricade followed the weapon’s ascension until a dark-colored fist punched him hard in the side of his head. The larger mech fell like a stone dropped in a lake. The glare he turned on Prowl sent shivers down the Praxian’s back. Wild like a storm, something that could not be contained and full of all the fury nature could command. Prowl would have stepped away in fear for his safety if the option were available to him. “I told you not to let anyone else touch you. I told you to stay close. I said this place was not safe.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Prowl pulled his wings back, shielding them from a possible attack. 

Sharp claws that could rend and tear gently tipped Prowl’s face up to meet the gaze of a golden visor. “Don’t be scared my lovely. I'm going to hurt you, not like you’re expecting me to, don’t get me wrong I’m mad as molten slag, but I won’t take it out on you.” 

Prowl wanted to relax, to believe the kindness coming from the killer but Ricochet was three shades of crazy in two color box. “Thank you.” 

Pinpricks of claws stroking the lines and cables of Prowl’s throat froze him to his spark. “Just don’t make breaking my rules a habit, once I can forgive. But again and I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” 

Prowl was too afraid to respond, terrified not to, worried he’d never get the chance to again. His choice was taken from him when doors around the club were blown open by local enforcers. Ricochet was in motion before Prowl recovered. His gun drawn, and a maniacal glint in place as Ricochet dragged the much-dazed Prowl into the stream of patrons forcing their way out of the building.

In the rush of bodies, Prowl lost his bearings and held tightly to the arm that gripped his own. Ricochet yanked a cloth from one of the overturned tables draping it over Prowl as they ran. “Keep it on and keep up.” A sharp tug had Prowl stumbling forward at Ricochet’s breakneck pace. Prowl had forgotten how fast Jazz could move when he needed to. Ricochet kept his counterpart’s speed though rather than gracefully navigate any obstacle that got in their way Ricochet would remove it in the most violent way possible as he bore through it. Prowl’s arm was only released once Ricochet used it to whip him into their awaiting shuttle sending him skidding across the floor. 

Prowl righted himself to find a manically laughing Ricochet raising the gantry for their shuttle. “That was a lot of fun. Didn’t know that a stiff like you could be so much fun. Glad I’m stuck with you, easy on the eyes, and good at stirring up trouble. Going to be an exciting trip.” 

“I don’t want an exciting trip.” Prowl grouched at his companion rubbing his jammed shoulder. 

“Aw, stop wrecking my fun...” Ricochet paused his head tilled listening to something Prowl couldn't hear. He almost asked what the other heard Ricochet’s balled up fist rang off his own helm. “You get to be out all the time when we have to all polite and civil, it’s my turn now. Ain't nobody around but him, and he already knows your big evil secret. So no point in you trying to force me away, besides that I ain't going back in my neat little box so you can just stop."

Ricochet threw himself against the side wall of the shuttle. “No. I’m not letting go. Not this time. We just got ourselves a pretty little plaything, and I intend to have me some fun. So shut up and pipe down.” There was a sickening crunch as Ricochet collided hard with the opposite wall of the shuttle. Prowl could only watch as Ricochet’s sharp claws drew down the curve of his own chest, rivers of energon, curls of metal and a scream of two distinct voices following in their wake. "Stop trying to fight me, or I'll rip us to shreds."

Prowl scrambled from the floor grabbing Ricochet’s hand before it made contact with his friend again. “Stop! Please Jazz, I mean Ricochet, stop.” 

Sharp claws changed their path from self-mutilation to gently tracing along the edges of Prowl’s face. “Aw, lovely thing are you worried for me?” The smile is equal parts cruel and sorrowful. 

“Yes, yes, of course, I’m worried. You can't-do this.” Prowl thought to use Ricochet’s possessiveness and Jazz’s protective nature to still the mech’s hand. “Who will take care of me if you’re wounded?”

The colors of the visor before him swam like oil and water, two fluids that refused to blend. Yellow gold pushed and chased at ocean blue. “Who would you like me to be? Huh, pet? You helped create this monster now you can’t handle being face to face with those repercussions can you?” The voice changed between the warm tones of the Autobot morale officer to the cold calculated sounds of the homicidal killer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I just don’t want you to hurt Jazz anymore, or yourself. There’s no one here to fix you and…”

“I’m long past getting fixed my pretty Praxian. But since you asked so sweetly I’ll stop hurting him for you on one condition.” 

Prowl wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, Ricochet’s shark tooth smirk sent shivers down his spine. Prowl summoned up his courage and met Ricochet’s wild gaze. “Anything, what is your condition?”

Ricochet stepped closer clawed hands gripped Prowl tight and pulled him close. “Kiss me.” 

Prowl searched that golden visor for some hint of a joke, finding none he thought better than to anger the volatile mech Prowl leaned up to place a chased kiss on the nearest cheek. 

Before he could lean away, sharp claws pricked at his face as he was held still. “Oh no, pet, it’s not that easy. You’ve got to kiss me as if you mean. Like you would if it were him like I were lovers.” 

Confusion colored Prowl’s words. Surely Ricochet would know he and Jazz can’t be that separated if they were one person. “But we’re not…” 

“I didn’t ask for explanations!" A hard shake rattled Prowl's armor "Kiss me, or I’ll tear him apart, leave you to pick up all the pieces, and deal with that price on your head all my your little lonesome.” Ricochet's grip tightened with the implied threat. Prowl lost his breath. Slowly he leaned forward this time his lips stroked the others. His tongue darted out to moisten them, to tease Ricochet into reciprocating, hoping to tantalize clawed hands to loosen their grip. 

“Hmmm,” the purr started against Prowl’s lips and moved with the shiver down the larger mech’s body settling in his engine where the purr shifted from the deep grumbling roar of Ricochet’s to the fine-tuned hum of Jazz’s high-performance speedster’s engine. The grip holding him changed from constrictor’s embrace to one desperate not to let go. When the kiss finally broke, it was to a bright blue visor wearing a matching expression to his own. Jazz was the first to break the silence and the word and glyphs he chose held a multitude of meanings, “Prowl?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key, too bad these two have both lost their sets of them.

The next few days were strange. Jazz spent his time shooting looks at Prowl pacing, and mumbling to himself. Or at least Prowl thought they would be odd looks if Jazz hadn't kept his visor thickly colored. Blue so opaque that his eyes beneath were never visible. 

"We're taking opposite shifts. I've got the next destination plotted on the navigation computer. And it's locked in. If anything happens, wake me up. You have the day shift. I'm taking nights. I've got an alarm set,” Jazz said as he tapped the side of his head. “But wake me if I oversleep or anything happens.” With that, he turned and retreated to the berth at the back of the shuttle. Though his back was to the room Prowl did not doubt that to wake Jazz was to court disaster. 

Trips through space were boring on their best days. In times past Prowl would have busied himself with statistics and analyzations. Lost himself in the various plots and plans he’d made, but that was no longer an option. And while he was grateful in some ways, in another it helped do nothing but remind him of all that he had lost. The weight of all that had happened was a heavy burden to bear as it once again crashed down upon his shoulder. His mind revisited the harsh words spoken by the Prime he'd once served. The memory of his body being ripped and torn as it was reformatted against his will, then again as Starscream, ruler of Cybertron, deemed his battle computer to danger a modification for anyone to have and had ordered it removed from him while he was strapped helplessly to a table. 

All of it he suffered through again alone as he watched the ship's computer make course corrections to an unknown destination. While his one companion, someone he'd thought he could count on had deemed him too untrustworthy to tell him where they were headed or even be in his company long enough to do more than take a simple ‘nothing significant to report’ handover as they passed like ships in the night. 

It was in the midst of one of those revisited horrors that held Prowl's mind captive that Jazz came to relieve him. He slipped into the other seat on the shuttle’s small bridge with an “I have the ship.” Jazz yawned and stretched as though he were attempting to stave off recharge rather than awaken his normal chipper self. The lack of response from Prowl quickly drew his attention. Through the reflection in the glass of the shuttle's cockpit, Jazz saw Prowl’s far away stare. He watched the faint tremble of those doorwings that were always held high and tight, the breath that seemed to come with shallow inhales and shakey exhales. “Hey Prowler? What's got your tongue?” Jazz almost touched him, reached out to stroke the nearest wing, to place a comforting hand on his longtime colleague and compatriot’s shoulder but a flash of silver still resting along Prowl’s dark neck stayed his hand and froze his spark. “Hey Prowl, I got this. Go rest.” 

Prowl startled at that the words spoken just a bit louder than necessary in their enclosed space. He scrubbed at his face, resettled his plating as he responded. “Jazz, I… yes, nothing significant to report. You have the ship.”

Jazz rubbed at his face again, as he shot the collar around Prowl’s neck a look of pure hatred with all the darkness of his well-earned reputation, “Prowl wait. Is there… Are you okay?” 

Prowl paused in the open doorway, “I’m fine Jazz. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jazz spun his chair around to cross his feet on the chair Prowl had vacated. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

Prowl sighed and gripped the door frame as the ship tilted slightly while it made another course correction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jazz spun back to the console and tapped a few buttons on the nav console. “All right guess it’s nothing then.” He waited until he heard Prowl straighten and shift his weight to step away. “I mean if you don’t want to talk about what happened with Ricochet, or that collar you’re still wearing, then I guess there’s nothing at all to say. Have a good night.”

“Thank you Jazz, good night.” As the door closed behind him, Prowl heard Jazz’s mumble a reply.

“Hope you don’t wake up screaming like you have the last few nights,” though Prowl chose to ignore it instead he sought out the solitude of the berth and the oblivion of recharge for however long it would welcome him. 

The night shift was always the worst. Not that days or nights mattered much in space. Not like there was a sun to rise or set, but circadian rhythms were still set and hard to change, especially if one didn’t want them too. Jazz needed to keep his awareness of the proper time, so when they reached their next stop, he’d be on local time. Which meant the nights always seemed longer; midway through his self-appointed shift Jazz was fighting sleep, boredom, and intrusive thoughts. He decided the best way to stave off the monotony would be to eat. 

Jazz walked on silent feet through their small shuttle to raid the would-be kitchen. On his way back to the cockpit he again heard Prowl fighting in his sleep. It happened nightly, though tonight it started earlier. Slowly Jazz slipped onto the edge of the bed. He hummed a quiet tune, pulled the blankets up to cover Prowl’s shoulder. His fingers lightly traced the unbroken side of Prowl’s red chevron. Jazz smiled as Prowl batted at his hand in his sleep. “You’re safe here Prowler. I've still got you. I’m still looking out for you. Even though...” 

The next morning when Prowl woke it was to a song on Jazz’s lips and a warm cup of energon on the bedside table. His “Good morning Jazz,” was met with a smile which quickly dropped from the saboteur’s lips at the sight of the still present collar. 

“You got this right?” at Prowl’s nod Jazz stood glare still locked on the offending decoration around his throat. “Good, I’m out. Wake me if something goes sideways.” And with that Prowl was once again left alone.


End file.
